


End of Stagnant Days

by henriettayuki



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-14
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 23:18:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/459585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettayuki/pseuds/henriettayuki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored with retirement, Miles buys a grocery store where Mansell bakes the morning bread and McCormack makes sandwiches for the lunch crowd. Kent delivers the morning papers, mags, and odds and ends. Most days, Miles' old protege, Joseph Chandler, stops by for advice and general harassment. It's a quiet life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally an experiment in present tense writing so pardon any strangeness.
> 
> Everything is dedicated to [suchaprince](http://suchaprince.livejournal.com), who introduced me to the show, encouraged me to pursue this random idea and unknowingly provided 99.9% of the soundtrack to which it was written. All of my thanks.

The lamplights are losing their feeble grips to the rising sun as Joseph Chandler greets the budding morning awake and alone. He sits on a cold iron chair, wishing he had stayed in the car for a few minutes longer.

"We need to stop meeting like this," an older man calls out, rubbing glove covered hands together before pulling out his keys. "The missus will start asking questions." Miles grins at his own joke and Chandler stands.

"You're late," Chandler announces.

Miles glares at him but unlocks his shop and flips the lights on, letting Chandler follow him inside. The lights take a moment to flicker on but Joe is already heading toward the back freezers.

"Help yourself," Miles mutters and turns to lock the door behind him when another man slips in. "You're late," Miles snaps. "Even he got here before you." He jerks his head toward Chandler, who is crouched in front of a refrigerated box rummaging through the bottles of milk.

"I got you, Miles. I got you," Mansell insists and heads toward the back. Chandler glances up at him as he passes but quickly returns to looking through the bottles of milk. The clattering of glass is the only sound for a while. Miles approaches Chandler and waits. Chandler pushes a few bottles back before the older man's presence becomes too much and he rubs his right temple vigorously.

"You got the newest one right there," Miles states. Chandler can't look up; he knows that the older man is amused by him and Chandler is not in the mood to hear it. "Also there is a thing called delivery. Man of your status could surely afford it."

Chandler grabs the newest bottle and stands.

"I'm good," he answers and forces a smile. "I'm good."

Miles jerks his head toward the register.

"Till's not up yet."

Chandler fumbles for his pocket. His fingers search for his wallet but Miles waves his hand.

"I'll put it on your tab," he replies and turns to get ready for the day. "Get some rest, sir. You look like crap."

Chandler stands awkwardly, unsure how to respond. His thumb taps nervously on the milk cap. Tap, tap, tap, tap.

"Get out," Miles shouts.

Chandler grinds his teeth and rubs his left temple before heading for the door. He pulls the cold metal handle but the frame only rattles. He tugs at it again and hears chuckling behind him.

"Miles!" Mansell shouts. He is drying his hands to start the morning baking. "Door's still locked."

"Yeah, yeah," Miles groans and digs through his key ring, sliding one after another, looking for the right one. Mansell stays at the employee door, smiling. "Let this be a lesson," Miles states and unlocks the door. "Get some rest."

Chandler smiles and receives one in return.

"Good night—"

"Morning," a young man greets.

Chandler and Miles turn to see Kent grabbing a parcel from the back of his scooter.

"Who's on the cover today, Kent?" Miles calls.

Kent pauses and tilts his head to check.

"Looks like the Queen again," Kent replies and hands the stack to Miles. He offers a nervous smile and nod toward Chandler. "Sir."

"Take a look at that," Miles points, displaying the magazine cover toward Kent and Chandler. "Another poof in the royal family, they claim." He shakes his head in amusement. "Never gets old." He nods his goodbyes without looking away from the cover and heads inside. The door locks loudly behind him. Kent stands nervously and goes to scratch his head then remembers he is still wearing his helmet and rubs the smooth plastic back.

"Don't you get delivery, sir?" Kent asks.

"What?" Chandler looks at the bottle in his hand then back to Kent. "I...I was up."

Kent nods and opens his mouth to continue when a loud clatter interrupts him.

"Get along, Kent," Miles shouts from the other side of the glass.

Kent blushes heavily.

"See you around, sir," Kent replies and quickly departs to his remaining deliveries.

Chandler watches him drive down the street and disappear around the corner. His thumb taps nervously at the milk cap. The sun is finally starting to peak out and Chandler knows he needs to go home. Lethargy is starting to seep into his shoulders and it will not be long before it claims his senses. He heads to his car, with the intention of returning home.


	2. Chapter 2

A loud buzzer announces Chandler's entrance. He scans the shop; it is still bustling with the last of the lunch crowd. McCormack grins from behind the corner as he hands a customer an order.

"Hello, boss," the cheery man calls. "What can I get you?"

"Is Miles around?" Chandler replies, walking further into the shop but a look of unease is still clear on his face.

"He's in back," McCormack answers. "Want the usual?" The large man is already reaching for a slab of meat to throw on the slicer.

"Yeah," Chandler answers more out of awkwardness than actual hunger. McCormack turns to slice the meat and Chandler cringes, regretting his decision. "Can I have it to go?" he forces out. McCormack glances over his shoulder.

"Whatever you want, boss," he grins and nods.

"What are you doing here?" Miles greets Chandler, leaving his pushcart of stacked bottles in front of the half empty fridges. He goes behind the counter to ring up a customer but his attention never fully leaves Chandler. He hands the woman her change and smiles. "Cheers, love." As she leaves, he turns to Chandler, still waiting for an answer. "Well?"

Chandler makes sure no one is waiting when he approaches the counter.

"I want to ask you about the Griffiths account," Chandler answers.

Miles barks a laugh and shakes his head before going back to his waiting drinks. Chandler grits his teeth and follows.

"That's the problem with you kids; you need your hand held every second of the day," Miles shouts as he throws the cooler doors open. "Do you think I did that for McCormack?" McCormack smiles behind the counter but his eyes never leave his work.

"It's your old account," Chandler hisses. "Tangers thinks it can be shoved up against Lewis and Handler."

Miles snaps around with a scowl.

"Like hell it can," he barks. "Let me see the damn thing."

Chandler barely hides his amusement and digs through his briefcase.

"Come on," Miles yells, snapping his fingers.

Chandler hands him the papers and glances around the emptying shop with pride. Miles flips through the papers roughly, bending them over the bulldog clip.

"There," Miles slaps the paper. "Shove up against Lewis and Handler. Who the hell does Tangers think he is?" Miles shoves his finger against the print and looks up at Chandler. "You see this? This puts Griffiths in his own category. When Lewis and Handler want to cough up this kind of money they can get the same treatment, you hear me? And you tell Tangers that for me next time he runs his mouth." He glares at the papers and shakes his head. "Next to Lewis and Handler. Fucking prat."

"Thanks, Miles," Chandler beams and takes the papers, trying to straighten them back into pristine order. "Sure you don't miss the office sometimes?"

Miles glares at him, coldly.

"Like hell, I do," he snaps and starts filling the fridge. "Get along, then."

"Your sandwich, boss," McCormack calls and hands the wrapped meal over the counter.

"Thank you, McCormack," Chandler smiles, taking his lunch and heading for the door.

"Oi!" Miles shouts, only briefly pausing in his restocking. "That's £20!"

"For a sandwich?" Chandler exclaims in surprise, looking over the wrapped meal.

"And the milk from the other day and for wasting my time," Miles replies. "Consider it a discount."

Chandler purses his lips but digs through his pocket and puts the money behind the till at the front counter.

"Thanks, boss," McCormack smiles.

Chandler turns for the door again but this time he is nearly hit as it swings open.

"Oh! Sorry, sir," Kent apologizes but looks cheerful. The door chime rings repeatedly as they stand in the doorway. "Are you heading to work?"

"Um...yeah. Just stopping—"

"Shut the bloody door!" Miles shouts.

Kent moves quickly out of the doorway and smiles sheepishly at Chandler.

"Just stopped to get some lunch," Chandler replies almost softly, turning the sandwich awkwardly in his hand then swallows audibly.

"Good choice," Kent grins. "I was actually just thinking about you." He cringes. "Not like that. I mean, if you were not busy with work or anything, some mates and I—"

"Kent!" Miles shouted. "Get what you want and get out or I'll throw you out for loitering!"

Kent's face turns sober and a little red around the ears.

"Never mind," Kent states curtly and shoves his hands in his coat pockets as he heads toward the deli counter.

Chandler watches the young man in slight curiosity until he notices Miles throwing him not too subtle glances to get lost. He nods to himself and heads out, the buzzer following him out.

Kent steals a look at the front door.

"What can I get you?" McCormack asks, leaning against the counter.

"The usual," Kent mutters and digs for his wallet.

"Don't worry, Kent," McCormack smiles. "He's here often enough."

"McCormack!" Miles snaps. "Don't go encouraging him." He turns to Kent. "You stay away from him, you hear me? He's nothing but trouble and you could do a lot better."

Kent gives him a sheepish smile.

"Thanks, sir," Kent replies but when Miles turns back to his bottles, Kent steals another glance to the door and stifles a full grin. McCormack throws a sliced pickle at him and Kent laughs.


	3. Chapter 3

"Bloody good show you put on in there," Anderson congratulates with a firm clasp to Chandler's shoulder and a friendly shake.

Chandler smiles modestly.

"I just let the facts talk for themselves," Chandler assures his former guardian.

"Take a little credit when credit's due, Joe," Anderson insists and leads them to his office. The windows give an impressive view of the city despite the heavy rain clouds in the distance. Chandler watches their approach before Anderson hands him a glass of brandy.

"I do have Miles to thank," Chandler relays into his drink, watching the liquor turn in his glass.

"Miles?" Anderson raises his eyebrow. "Still resisting his retirement then?"

Chandler tries not to smile but nods.

"You can say that," Chandler replies and meets Anderson's gaze firmly. "But I wish you would give me an account that didn't rely so much on my predecessor's work."

Anderson laughs.

"I give you the accounts you deserve, Joe. Your choice to seek the former accounts' managers is yours alone."

Chandler nods and takes another sip under Anderson's watchful eye. The older man sighs and relents.

"I do have account for you that would be yours alone," Anderson states. "It's a new account so no need to approach your friend, Miles. However if it does poorly, it is solely yours. Of course, if I didn't think you could handle it, I wouldn't bring it up now."

"I don't know what to say," Chandler grins.

"Just do well then I can promote you without the others breathing down my neck," Anderson assures him.

"Thank you, sir."


	4. Chapter 4

Just as predicted, the rain starts just after lunch. The clouds open and let loose a downpour upon everyone, including Chandler. He peers out of the shop door, looking for a good time to exit.

"Sir!"

Chandler turns to see Kent bounding toward him with a cheerful smile.

"Afternoon," Kent greets, pulling his umbrella to allow Chandler cover. "Didn't miss the rain?"

"Looks that way," Chandler smiles.

Kent shifts the bags under his arms and nearly drops his umbrella. Chandler grabs the handle.

"Thanks. You can borrow the umbrella if you walk me to my flat," Kent offers casually but looks a little warm under the collar.

Chandler takes the handle and holds it high enough for the both of them.

"Do you usually take your lunch out here?" Kent asks, glancing up at him. "Because Miles might get jealous," he quickly adds when Chandler lifts an eyebrow at the question.

Chandler smiles.

"Then we can keep this between you and me," he adds. "Can't have Miles finding another reason to yell at me."

"Honestly, sir, Miles will find something."

Chandler laughs.

"What brings you to this side of town?" Chandler asks.

Kent lifts his arms to gesture to his bags.

"Just picking up things for the party."

"Oh the one with your mates?"

Kent smiles a little nervously.

"Yeah. That one."

"Are Miles and McCormick going?"

"What! No," Kent exclaims with a laugh then turns bright red, realizing how it looked. "What I mean is...it's really not their scene. And probably not yours either, sir, so it's good you can't make it."

Chandler taps his finger on the umbrella handle.

"Thank you for the invite all the same."

Kent smiles then stops in front of a shop. Chandler is scanning the place when Kent speaks up.

"I'll catch the bus from here."

"Don't be silly. Let me give you a lift," Chandler insists.

"Honestly, I can manage," Kent replies with an earnest smile then stops Chandler's hand. "You can keep the umbrella."

"I couldn't—"

"The nearest car park is quite far. I'll be fine."

"At least let me stay until the bus arrives," Chandler sighs.

Kent smiles in reply and opens his mouth to speak when Chandler's phone rings. He digs his phone from his pocket, glances at the screen then answers.

"Joseph Chandler." He gives Kent an awkward, apologetic smile then looks away despite their physical closeness due to the umbrella cover.

Kent bites his lower lip and looks around.

"Hm," Chandler answers into the phone and steals a glance at Kent.

The younger man digs through his bag and pulls out a paper, a receipt. Chandler watches curiously; Kent makes a gesture for a pen. Chandler pins his phone against his ear and shoulder as he hands Kent his pen from his pocket.

Kent glances over his shoulder; the bus is approaching. He scribbles onto the paper and smiles as he hands Chandler the paper and the pen. Chandler watches in interest but Kent smiles and shuffles his bags to board the bus.

"I understand," Chandler replies into the phone and looks at the paper in his hand. It read: 'Call me' and Kent's number was scribbled underneath. Chandler looked up at the departing bus under his borrowed umbrella with a perplexed expression.


End file.
